My daughter lost one front tooth about a month ago. The other front tooth finally got tired of being wiggled and left her mouth last week just before Sydney’s seventh birthday.
I was away on a business trip when the gap in her mouth widened, but it didn’t surprise me to find out there was a story and a sibling behind it.
Turns out, Sydney and 9-year-old Ethan were playing Truth or Dare when her big brother asked this question:
“Have you ever kissed the couch?”
Kinda reminds me of when I used to get asked, “Ever tasted a knuckle sandwich?”
Sydney’s response to the interesting query was surprising. Not the part where she said, “No.” The strange part happened when Ethan told her, “Until now.” I assumed that meant he shoved Sydney’s face into a couch cushion and her mouth accidentally hit one of the arms.
Ethan denies doing anything mischievous.
“She just ran into the couch to kiss it and she hit her tooth and it came out,” he claimed, almost believably. “I didn’t push her. You can even ask her.”
I like to think I’m a trusting father. I try to give my kids the benefit of the doubt. We’ve taught our children about being honest and forthright and in taking responsibility for their actions, so, of course I wasn’t about to take his word for anything that happened.
“You mean, like, tell you the whole story?”
Yes! (For some reason, I delight in catching my kids spinning their web of lies.) Tell me the whole story, especially the part where your brother forced you to smooch the sofa!
“We were playing Truth or Dare and I said ‘Truth!’ And he said, ‘Have you ever kissed the couch?'”
(Dang. This story is sounding suspiciously similar.)
“And I said, ‘No, but now I have!'” Sydney recalled. “And I was running and I ran into the couch and it was in my mouth and I spit it out and it was there.” (It being the tooth she spit out, not the couch.)
Me: “So Ethan didn’t push you?”
Sydney: “Yeah, Ethan didn’t.”
“Did he threaten you if you told the truth?”
Ha! Caught you … telling the truth!
Sydney wanted to make sure the Tooth Fairy was aware of what had happened, so she took action. She put this note with her Tooth Pillow on her bed that night.
The tooth is in there.
Are you real?
I won’t hert you I’m youer freind.
Sometimes the Tooth Fairy has a hard time getting to our house in a speedy manner. Other times I swear she borrows quarters from Dad’s change jar. The Tooth Fairy more than made up for it two mornings later when she delivered this awesome, hand-written response:
Thank you for your sweet note. I would love to meet you,
however if I did my powers would be gone.
No more magic for me. That would be so sad!
But don’t worry. I will keep visiting you.
Sweet dreams beautiful child.
The Tooth Fairy
P.S. Happy Birthday!
Sydney was so excited about the letter — “probably 10 hundred percent excited,” she later told me — and the world’s newest 7-year-old even rushed upstairs at 1:30 a.m. Telling Mom all about the Tooth Fairy’s visit and thoughtful gesture couldn’t wait until the daylight portion of morning, of course.
Though I was in Dallas while all of that excitement happened, I’ve enjoyed Sydney’s new toothless look since returning. She could win any Miss Redneck pageant in the world. For kicks, I just asked her to whistle and to say, “Sister Susie sitting on a thistle.” She previously looked at me like I’m nuts (what’s new?) when I started singing, “All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth.” Sydney had never heard that classic holiday song or the aforementioned tongue twister in it. Not surprisingly, the classic has now been serenaded to her a few times.
I get the feeling Santa Claus is going to receive a much longer wish list than just two front teeth. If he’s lucky, he’ll get a cute hand-written note from his sweet freind who won’t hert him, too.
As a public service, here’s a fun version of “All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth” performed by Michael Bublé and a toothless Elmo: